With you
by you-make-me-wander
Summary: Clubbing is not real their thing, or maybe it's just timing that doesn't let them enjoy their night out. Either way, it doesn't matter.


**For stydia-fanfiction's prompt: "** _ **Stiles and Lydia go to the bar together. They aren't interested in finding someone to go home with. They just wanted a night away where they could drink and dance and not worry about anything supernatural. They're just friends, but they bail each other out when a girl won't stop hitting on Stiles despite his polite decline of her offer, or the creep at the bar starts getting a little handsy with Lydia, or the bartender gives them a hard time.**_ **"**

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"I swear, Lydia, if that guy so much as looks this way again, I'm gonna lose it."

Lydia was, of course, aware that Stiles had noticed the creepy guy that's been eyeing her for quite a while now, but she didn't know just how much it is actually bothering him. She can easily see Stiles' discomfort now, concern for her, a sentiment that she shares wholeheartedly because the pervert that is by the bar keeps undressing her with his eyes and has tried to make a move three times already, one of which turned out a little handsy.

The thought makes her skin crawl.

She's not sure where Stiles got the willpower not to punch the guy right then, and she can only be thankful that Stiles was coming from the bathroom when he caught the guy and ended up not seeing the whole thing. He'd flip, she's sure. It's not really unusual that things like that happen to Lydia whenever she goes out, but going out with Stiles _and_ having it happen is a whole different thing and she wishes it would stop now.

"Just ignore it. He wouldn't dare come near me if you're here."

Granted, that's not the reason why Lydia has been practically glued to Stiles all night, but it sure as hell gives her a decent excuse to.

As if on cue, Stiles shuffles closer to Lydia on their seat, casually throwing an arm over her shoulders and resting it on the couch they're in as if saying that she's his.

(Which _she is_ and has been for quite a while, even if Stiles seems unaware of it.

How, Lydia wouldn't know. She's been blatantly clear about her intentions lately.

Or so she thinks.)

"Well, I still don't like it," Stiles mumbles, playing with a straw in between his lips and teeth before putting it back in his glass and sucking on it, tasting the sweet vodka and not minding that it's not as cold as he usually likes it, but right now his mind is occupied with more pressing matters.

Lydia would have never guessed she'd be so envious of a freaking straw in her life.

"And it's not just him," she says with a little venom in her voice, huffing in annoyance. "Looks like _she_ 's gonna try again," Lydia mutters with a little nod of her head, and Stiles glances briefly to where Lydia is looking at.

"Ah, shit."

Lydia has to admit that it's not just the straw she's jealous of tonight.

There's a blonde girl, Chelsea she says her name is, tall and incredibly beautiful who has been making heart eyes at Stiles since he and Lydia arrived, and it's not for lack of trying that she's not getting any.

Stiles and Lydia have been at the club for just over two hours and the girl has tried to catch his attention at least five times already, but why Stiles always politely declines her advances, Lydia is not entirely sure.

Even though she'd very much like for it to be, _this_ is not a date. They're just two friends who'll be parting ways for college in a week and wanted a night out away from all the supernatural shenanigans, away from everyone in the pack who's been trying to force them to get together.

The thing is, they're _there_. They're where they have to be and have been for a while, but for things to move forward he and Lydia need to talk, discuss things and find out where they stand, and the problem is that they were never really good with words. Talking with their eyes is something they're incredibly good at, but Lydia doubts they can have this conversation in any way other than verbally.

Lost in thought, she momentarily forgets that the other girl is approaching and fast, and in a few seconds she's standing in front of them again, flirtatiously twirling a lock of her blonde hair between her fingers as she smiles brightly at Stiles, barely even acknowledging that Lydia is there. "Hi, again."

Stiles blushes despite himself, knowing that the banshee's gaze is fixed on him. "Hi."

"I was wondering if you'd want to dance? I really like this song."

She says it sweetly, almost innocently even, but Lydia can only be grateful that her sense of smell isn't supernaturally enhanced. She's sure the girl reeks.

"Oh, uh…" Stiles glances at Lydia briefly, and the apprehensive expression on his face tells her that he'd much prefer to dig his own grave instead. It makes her purse her lips not to let the laughter out. "I'm fine right here," Stiles answers dismissively, trying not to be rude. "Thanks, though."

"He doesn't really dance," Lydia offers, trying to help.

The other girl pretends Lydia didn't even speak and continues as if Lydia isn't right there. "I'm sure you have moves."

Lydia does laugh this time, remembering how spastic Stiles can be when he dances. "Oh, he sure does." She leans in in the girl's direction and speaks lowly, or at least low enough that the girl can still hear her even though they're in a club and music is blaring from the speakers. "But trust me, not anyone can handle it. It's a lot to take in."

Stiles feigns offense and his mouth hangs open in shock at the redhead's words. It makes Lydia focus on his lips and now it's not a good time for that at all. "I _can_ dance."

Oblivious to their inner joke – and honestly, just not caring -, the girl takes advantage of the situation. "Of course you can. So… Dance with me?"

Still focused on the strawberry blonde beside him, Stiles sometimes forgets that there are other people in the room when Lydia can look so captivating, and he wishes the other girl would just leave already. He's there for Lydia, not anyone else. Why can't other people understand that?

"I'm sorry. I'm just not into it today," he tells her, politely declining the offer – _again_ \- but the girl almost seems unfazed.

"You'll get in the mood in no time if you dance with me, I promise."

Stiles can practically hear Lydia rolling her eyes at that. "Look, I-"

Lydia tugs at his t-shirt suddenly, moving closer to him to whisper in his ear. Stiles swallows dryly at the proximity. "If you uh… If you wanna go dance with her, it's okay," Lydia says unsurely, and getting those words out of her mouth is probably the hardest thing she did all night. "I won't mind."

It's not like they're on a date, after all.

Stiles sees uncertainty in her eyes but smiles warmly in response, and he has to trump instinct not to kiss her in reassurance right then.

He turns to face Chelsea, his hand not so subtly now resting on Lydia's shoulder, his thumb lazily brushing against her skin. "I'm sorry," he repeats himself. "I'm not dancing with you tonight." Noticing that the girl is gonna give it another try, Stiles continues before she can say anything else. "Or any other night, probably. I'm not looking to leave this bar with someone for a random hookup, alright? It's just… Not what I'm looking for."

The girl resigns at last, slightly flustered at the rejection, and gives a little nod of her head before turning around and leaving, and Stiles looks at Lydia then to find her distracted, staring at his hand on her shoulder as if trying to figure something out.

He lets go reflexively, embarrassed that it happened so naturally. "Sorry. I-"

"It's okay," Lydia responds immediately, pursing her lips in a smile. "You could have given her one dance, if that's uh- Something you'd want…"

It's something that Lydia is not used to, doubting herself and her attributes when other girls are in the picture and Stiles is the common denominator, the one they all want. It makes her feel insecure sometimes, knowing that even if she wants him so much, he deserves so much more than Lydia can give him.

And what's worse is that she's not sure if she's selfish enough anymore – as selfish as she really wants to be - to try and have him for the little time they'll have together from now on, with their paths going different ways in just a few days.

Strangely – or not at all -, Stiles feels the exact same way about the banshee.

That's why they've been dancing around each other for the last few months. "It's not. And I'm with you."

He is. In every way.

"Still, if-"

"I'm with you," he tells her again, and it's a point for Stiles when he genuinely makes Lydia blush at how naturally he says it, enough that is easily noticeable under the fluorescent lights.

It makes her feel nostalgic because she knows in her core that he means it wholeheartedly, always has, and she's been reciprocating the feeling for quite a while even if she's never known how to let it show properly.

Lydia is not sure how, but the hand he'd let fall to his lap before is now very close to hers, and she doesn't know what overcomes her but she tentatively reaches for him, her fingers grazing his shyly as if it's the first time she's doing so, slowly as if trying to make it last for as long as possible.

Stiles hesitates before entwining his fingers with hers, somewhat worried of crossing a line that never really was there between them, but always has been in a way.

"I'm gonna miss you," she murmurs as she leans so very close to him, and Stiles thinks he's going to stop breathing any second now.

There's such vulnerability in her voice that Stiles starts moving his thumb in circles on the back of her hand soothingly. "We're gonna be okay," he smiles softly. "It's just…" Stiles takes a deep breath. To Lydia, it's like he's trying to convince himself rather than her. "It's only a two-hour distance. We're gonna see each other all the time and-"

Lydia tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes at him.

"Okay, so maybe not _all_ the time," he corrects. "But often. You can come home every other weekend, and we can visit you in between-"

"I doubt it. With classes and all of us having different schedules, it's… It's gonna be hard."

"We'll come up with something, okay?" Lydia is the one who's gonna be farthest from the pack and it's taking its toll on her already, but the worst part is being away from Stiles now that they've grown much, much closer. "I promise. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Stiles smirks and even winks, hopeful, and Lydia can't help but to laugh freely at that.

Dammit, she's really going to miss him.

She loses herself in thought for a moment, debating internally if she's ready to say out loud all that she hasn't yet, but the music is too distracting and Stiles is looking at her like she's everything, so she decides to give it a last try at attempting to tell him how she feels without having to voice it.

With a half-crooked smile of her own, Lydia perks up. "Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me," she repeats slyly.

Stiles plays along, entertained. "Why?"

"We never had the chance at prom, for one."

Because of course some supernatural ass had to interrupt prom and kill a couple of students, so that was that.

"I think I'll pass," he jokes, fairly aware of how their roles are reversed, thinking back at Winter Formal.

Lydia seems to notice it too but she's resolute. "You're gonna dance with me."

"And embarrass you and myself to death in a club that's completely full? I don't think so."

Lydia gets up and grins, fixing her dress. "Stiles, get off your cute little ass and dance with me now."

He wasn't counting on Lydia actually going there, so for a second he just stares at her, mouth agape. "Did you just-"

"Yes." Lydia holds out her hand for him to take again. "Now are you gonna dance with me or what?"

Stiles teases her just a little bit more. Frustrating Lydia is honestly one of his favorite hobbies. "What."

"What?"

"You asked me if I'd dance with you _or what_ , and I said-" Lydia rolls her eyes at him, but Stiles just waves his hand dismissively. "Nevermind. But anyway, you said that not anyone can handle my moves just like, three minutes ago, so-"

"But I'm not just anyone, am I?"

There's a moment of silence between them, a heartbeat when they both evaluate where this is going, and on the next Stiles is getting up from his seat and hovering above her just a little too close.

"No, you're not, Lydia Martin. No, you're not."

Lydia hopes he doesn't notice how her breathing quickens just then. "Are you gonna dance with me, then?"

He doesn't move, but his smirk… Good god, his smirk… "I'm gonna embarrass you."

"You always embarrass me," she quips quickly. "But I don't mind."

"Lydia Martin has a reputation. I'd probably stain it," he jokes.

 _You already have_ , she thinks to herself, because he's imprinted in her life now, and has been for a long time. "My reputation died when I started hearing voices in my head and finding dead bodies, so I think you're good."

"I'm terrible at dancing, you know that," he chuckles, trying to reason with her.

She grabs ahold of his hand again, taking a step closer. "Not at slow songs," she reminds him, the memory alone warming her heart and making it beat faster. "You were actually pretty good."

Stiles frowns. "I doubt they'll play a slow song… You know… In a club… Where we are…"

Lydia shrugs her shoulders, not minding. "We can still slow dance."

"If we're the only ones slow dancing, what will other people think?" he asks, loving the way he's working her up when Lydia rolls her eyes again at his incessant comebacks.

"Do you care about what other people think?"

She has a point there. "Not really, no."

"So will you dance with me?"

"Are you gonna say _please_?"

Lydia tries her best to not roll her eyes again, smacking him lightly in the chest instead. "Tell you what. You can dance spastically all you want until this song ends, then we're slow dancing. I don't give a damn about other people. Everyone's probably drunk anyway."

"I'm starting to think that you just like to watch me dance…" he muses, wiggling his eyebrows at her and smiling bright.

She hates him sometimes. "Stiles!"

He squeezes her hand in response. "Alright, alright," he mutters, leading the way to the dance floor. "But be warned. I'm gonna embarrass you as much as I can."

Lydia smiles softly. "I can handle it."

Stiles smirks knowingly, loving the way she's so open with him when it's just them, and god he wishes things were different.

But they're not.

And in a few days they'll be two hours away from each other and he doesn't know what comes next, so if tonight is part of the little time he'll get to see Lydia until she leaves, he's gonna make the most of it.

Stiles stops abruptly – not really. Lydia was admiring his ass, thus distracted – and turns around to face her when Lydia bumps into him. His hand settles on her waist to steady her.

Lydia blushes at being caught and it's adorable, but he doesn't say anything about it, keeping things between them casual. "Are you ready? I'm gonna give it my all," he laughs, and Lydia is the one trying to hold back laughter (and failing miserably at that) in a few seconds, when she's not so sure that Stiles isn't having a seizure.

She should have been wiser because the damn song goes on for almost five minutes and Stiles is unstoppable but Lydia lets him have it, happy as he is. He's slightly breathless when he finishes, sure, but Lydia can handle that too.

(His dancing skills are also, she discovers, quite effective at keeping predators away, because when the pervert sees Lydia alone staring at the magnificence that is a dancing Stiles, he tries to go for her again, only to almost be knocked out in the process by Stiles' flailing limbs.

Stiles protects her even when he doesn't mean to.)

Lydia doesn't hesitate in wrapping her arms around his neck like she did so long ago as soon as the song changes, only now Stiles is taller and more built but his arms around her waist make her feel just as safe as they did then. They start swaying slowly completely off beat and not really caring at all that they are.

His erratic breathing on her neck makes her shiver. "This is nice."

Stiles holds her closer. "Yeah."

Lydia distances herself from him enough that she can look up at him properly. "I'm really gonna miss you."

He stares.

He stares and stares into her eyes as if searching for the answers his lips were never able to ask, sighing in what he can only hope isn't defeat. "I know."

Lydia sees it, the uncertainty she knows she mirrors, so when nothing happens for a few seconds and they just keep staring at each other as if life depends on it, she gets on her tiptoes and leans in, pressing her lips against his softly.

Their eyes flutter closed almost in sync.

It's barely a graze of lips and takes all of two seconds but it changes everything, like so many things before them have.

Stiles rests his forehead against hers for a moment, breathing her in. "I'm gonna miss you too."

Lydia smiles, studying his face as if it's the last time she'll ever see it, letting her hands fall from his neck to find his to hold. She looks down at them, pondering again.

Reason wins this time. "Can we talk about this?"

There's a half-crooked smile on his lips when she looks up at him to see him nodding, a glint in his eyes as if he was just told his dreams were coming true.

(They are.)

"Wanna get out of here?" she suggests, and in a couple of minutes their tab is paid for and they're heading for the Jeep hand in hand, and it's not really surprising that they end up falling asleep on the backseat at 5am, curled up together after pouring their hearts out and finding out that kissing each other is actually something they should have been doing for, at the very least, the last two years of their life.

The figuring out part? They'll leave it for the morning.

They are where they want to be right now.

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 **Author's note:** Feedback is encouraged and much appreciated :)


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